The Story

Upon my body there is a story
Upon cold fingers lies a secret

A journey taken is written here,
Each line and curve is
Traced with conscious choice and hope
A journey sketched, a line of time

The path taken is engraved here,
Lines and curves are
Etched upon my hands,
An emblem of free will

Inside these eyes there is a picture
Inside my head a melody plays

Sun-kissed days are spent drawing,
Trees and flowers swaying sweetly
As the hours flow past me
I waste time just breathing

Soft drums rap to woo me,
Warmth of sunlight to soothe me
As eyes close, to shut out brightness

Within my heart my blood sings
Within this fist all anger melts

Each breath expels the bitter,
Bitter sentiments and regrets
Each cycle, as my pulse slows
Tells a tale of rage and fury cooled

Laying atop the soft green grass, as sunrays
Play upon this face and gentle wind
Runs up and across my arms,
I stare into the distance 

These fingers clutch at flowers,
White and pure with stems of emerald
And upon these cheeks, salt water stains
While the sun slowly fades